


he tells me to "shut up, i got this."

by losingdogs



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, Love Bites, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Touch-Starved, american spelling instigates my fight or flight response, hope u like poorly placed line breaks n the same massive sentence over n over, not a songfic but if u wanna blast ldr n mitski whomst is gonna stop u, thnks to all the writers for this pairing for insp!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21999322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingdogs/pseuds/losingdogs
Summary: basically fuches feels barry up in an alley and b of course loses his tiny mind
Relationships: Barry Berkman/Monroe Fuches
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry if the formats wack, im on my phone!!

They're well and truly in their cups as they spill out of the bar, Fuches going over the same stupid old story he's told a thousand times before, mouth running and face animated as he gestures wildly. Barry's eyes, heavy with drink, track his hands a little slowly as they cut through the still night air, tripping along beside him. He can barely stay upright.

Fuches' face is pink, his lips wet as he recounts some war (time) mishap with an old friend. Barry thinks he would watch him talk all day if he could. Fuches catches him staring and wheels on him, mid-laugh.

"Whatcha looking at, huh?"

"Nothin', man, I just..."

"Yeah?"

They look at each other, and even as Fuches' face is softened from the laughter and drinking, his gaze drips suggestion. Barry can't help but feel like a deer in the headlights, or maybe more like a gazelle locking eyes with a lion. Despite the confidence he gained with the beers Fuches bought him, he looks away after a beat, his alcohol flush deepening as he lowers his head.

"I don't - "

"Hey, buddy, I'm just messin' with ya," Fuches says, inexplicably backing him up into the alley beside the bar.

Barry stumbles back a little - "Hey, Fuches - what - " but he just keeps coming, crowding into his space til Barry's back is against the brick wall behind them, mere metres away from the street.

"Heyyy, Barry," Fuches parrots back at him, grinning when his catch reddens predictably. Barry gasps as Fuches roughly palms his cock through his jeans. His eyes, suddenly cartoonishly wide, skip to the street, but it appears to be deserted. A warm chuckle accompanies the liquor-laced breath washing across Barry's mouth, his throat, god - he hates that his first thought is how embarrassing it is that he's getting hard already, the months since he's been touched like this setting a record time for his body's reactions. Barry's head _thunks_ against the wall as Fuches leans into the crook of his neck, the heat of his lips there almost too much to take.

"Look at you, hey? Big tough guy, at my mercy all of a sudden. I could," Fuches is sort of joking, "I could have my way with you right here, couldn't I?"

Barry almost laughs at the odd turn of phrase, but his breath catches as Fuches reaches up and begins stroking his thumb up and down the juncture between his right shoulder and his neck. His fingers run through his hair, honey-slow. "Right here," Fuches repeats with no chuckle this time, the rhythmic movements of his hand lulling Barry into pliancy, softening his eyes and mouth. Fuches leans up to kiss him, hard, the move catching Barry off guard - he's always the one to initiate this, and it rarely goes well. He can't count how many times he's leaned in for a kiss and been rebuffed, Fuches rearing back in shock, even pushing him away physically. He wonders if it's only okay now because there's no room for romance here, his back against the wall in this dark alley, both of them wasted, Fuches all over him - then Fuches slides his tongue into his mouth, and Barry's mind shuts off abruptly.

It's too much at once, the heat of Fuches' tongue in his mouth, the overwhelming taste of alcohol, the thumb pressing into his neck - Barry feels as though he's floating outside of himself already. He can't help but moan around Fuches as his mouth is caressed by that insistent tongue. Fuches practically pricks up his ears at the helpless little sound. He draws back a moment, just to catch the sight of Barry blushing sweetly, mouth red and plush and eyes averted in embarrassment.

He's a little worried about people in the bar, someone walking in the street, maybe - Fuches grabs his chin and manhandles Barry to face him again. "Hey. You wanna keep quiet? Lemme help you out." Fuches pushes two fingers deep into Barry's mouth, dirty and mean, pressing his head back against the rough bricks and muffling a whimper. His right hand snakes around to squeeze the back of Barry's neck and stays there, the warm weight tethering Barry to the earth once more. Fuches' thumb presses into the hollow of his cheek as Barry sucks on two of his fingers, licking at the salty skin between. " _Mmh_ \- "

His fingers slipping out leaves Barry feeling empty a moment, until Fuches rests his slick hand on his hip, fingertips grazing the skin underneath the waistband of his boxers. God, how long since - Fuches rubs his thumb over an old scar just above Barry's thigh, grinning at the hitch in breath it elicits. Barry is suddenly aware of how still he is, a phrase from an acting class hang-out jumping into his head - _pillow princess -_ and abruptly presses his hips into Fuches', letting out a shaky exhale as he does so. "Fucking hell, kid," Fuches groans, more than alcohol slurring his speech as he clenches his hands around those eager hips and pushes Barry into the wall, "you wanna slow down a little?" Barry knows it's unfair even as he dips his head, cheeks burning, and wishes he has the backbone to flip their postions.

He's never, ever had the upper hand when they're like this. Sure, sometimes it feels like it, Fuches pleading above him as his cock twitches in his punishing mouth, or that one time Fuches was so drunk he let Barry set the pace and ride him into perdition. But ultimately it's always been Fuches in control: Fuches' hand tugging him around by the hair, Fuches' withheld touch making him beg, Fuches' words sending him tumbling over the edge.

He fantasizes about it a moment: taking control, seizing the weaker man by the shoulders and shoving him up against the wall with ease, teasing him half to death with a sly mouth and greedy hands. See how he likes it. Apparently reading his mind, Fuches grabs his wrist, pinning it against the bricks behind them as he sucks a hot bruise into that same spot on his neck he was massaging moments before. Another hand - christ, Barry feels completely covered up with Fuches' fingers - yanks his hair in rhythm with the pulsing suction, and a loud moan escapes Barry before he can bite it back. He stiffens, eyes swiveling anxiously to the street once more. "We're fine, buddy," Fuches murmurs, "nobody but me's gonna see you like this -" he grazes his teeth across the swollen spot on his neck - "all hot and bothered, hmm?"

When Barry is too overcome to reply, Fuches rears back, his pleased expression tinged with concern. "You with me?" Barry melts at the small kindness, his cheeks even hotter as he manages an "Uh-huh, it's just, it's been a while, you know?" His gaze flicks away quickly to nothing in particular. Fuches smiles fondly at his bashfulness, reaching out to cup his heated face. "Mm-hmm. A long while. Too long, don't you think?" "Y-yeah, man," a shaky laugh, fuck, he sounds so _stupid_ \- Barry catches the gleam of Fuches' teeth in the streetlight as he speaks again, his breathy rumble betraying his apparent composure. "You feel so good - here," that hand stroking the hot smooth skin of his cheek, "here," slipping to push through fat to the jumping muscles of his side, "and here -" _oh_ , Fuches' fingers are digging into his thigh, deep and sure through his jeans. "Mmm, so good. You're doing so well, baby." Barry _mewls,_ his pitch embarrassingly climbing higher and higher with each breath, each kind word.

He can feel want gnawing at his belly, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Honestly, the praise works him up better than any touch.

Fuches' stubble scratches his neck as he kisses and drags his teeth across the hot skin beneath his jaw, sucking him rosy. Barry's hands are clawing desperately at Fuches' back, his hair. Fuck, he wants. He's not even sure what - wants to sink to his knees in this dark alley, wants to be _taken_ , wants Fuches' hands, his praise - wants to get fucked good and hard against the wall, god - Fuches pulls back as he's about to lose it, and he can't help whining, a wordless complaint that brings a smirk to his handler's lips. "So loud tonight," Fuches hums, sliding a hand beneath his shirt in no hurry at all. "Be quiet, sugar, it's like you _want_ to get caught." Barry looks away, aware that Fuches can probably feel his heart going like a machine gun as he makes his way up his torso in light strokes and gropes. "You want it bad, don't you?" and Barry nods, quick and graceless, hoping that maybe - "But you'll take just what you're given." Barry keens softer as Fuches ghosts a rough palm over his nipple, his breath in his ear.

"That's a good boy."

Fuches is really dragging him across the coals now, each movement maddeningly slow as he pushes the hand up his shirt to his throat, just circling it. "Maybe this will shut you up." Fuches' hand squeezes hard as he moves his other to cup Barry's bulge through thick denim and boxers. Barry hisses. "Ah, that feels almost painful, doesn't it - hang on," and Fuches is pressing his zipper into his aching cock as he drags it down slowly. Barry, half-terrified the metal will catch, presses himself back against the dirty bricks - but Fuches follows him, leaning up into him to nip at his ear, the hand round his throat tightening subtly.

Fuches' right hand, now on his boxers, gently pulses around his cock, just barely pressing into him. A little slow, a little cruel. Barry feels as if he's on fire, a goofy little smile on his mouth as that song Fuches loves pops into his head - _mmm, I got a bad desire_. His restricted breath, his pulse is quickening under Fuches' curled hand, face growing even redder, and yeah, dick painfully hard and harder still when Fuches begins murmuring in his ear.

"Mm, you're a good boy, aren't you, so desperate for it even in a fucking alley, so -" he tightens both his hands, ring digging into the bruise he left on Barry's throat and squeezing out a broken moan - " _perfect,_ so fuckin' good for me. Stay put, baby, let me do this for you." Barry's breath is coming scratchy and sore, hot tears slipping out of his darkened eyes with every hitching gasp. He feels like he's about to blow up, about to die anyway. Fuches relents a little, loosening his hand and kissing away the tracks down Barry's face as he strokes his cock firmly through his boxers. Ashamed even as he's doing it, Barry works his hips into Fuches' hand, the sensation of being on the precipice of release only increasing his need for air - and Fuches takes his hand away, the dampened front of his underwear suddenly freezing.

 _"Mnnh,_ Fuches, don' stop, please - c'mon I need it, need you - " Fuches fucking _laughs_ , the monster, shaking his head as he looks over the panting, wrecked man in front of him. "Uh-uh, Barry, you have to stay still. I'll take care of you, but I'll take my time, hmm?" Too frustrated to even express it, Barry struggles to plead with him as his windpipe is constricted once more in Fuches' hand - he manages a throaty " _please"_ and clamps his mouth shut when Fuches complies.

He pushes Barry's pants further down his trembling thighs and slips his hand into Barry's boxers, taking hold of his cock. Barry almost comes on the spot, _willing_ his hips to stay put as Fuches begins sliding his hand over the length of him at a leisurely pace, obscenely heavy and slick from how often he'd wobbled on that knife edge of pleasure. Barry moans, shudders as Fuches pushes the side of his finger along his slit a little, so wet and sensitive with need. "Here you go, now. You've been so patient, so perfect tonight." " _Unnh_ , Fuches - " His throat sounds already fucked raw, straining as he stutters out another moan. Fuches jerks him faster even as he grips his abused throat. He's so close. Fuches is getting out of breath himself, his praise coming fast and low, barely intelligible.

"You're a good kid, Barry, real good for me, yeah, so great - "

" _Ah -_ mm, _Fuches -_ yours - _"_

 _"_ Yeah, you're my boy. Look at you. Jesus, you're perfect. C'mon, now."

"Hnnh - _Fuches!"_ With a final tug Barry cries out and collapses forward, the hand at his throat moving to support him as he finally comes load after load into Fuches' hand. "You're really somethin' special," Fuches breathes, holding him up as he gasps and shakes, the warm words sending another jolt of pleasure rocking through Barry like the recoil of a gunshot.

They stay like that a while, Fuches supporting his considerable weight as he comes down to earth, raising a hand to run his fingers through Barry's damp hair, settling once again at the back of his neck. Barry feels himself coming back together slowly, his feet meeting the ground again. Fuches gently massages some of the pain out of his throat, sure to be bruised all over tomorrow. Barry hopes Fuches can't feel the skip in his pulse as he imagines jacking off with one hand pressed into Fuches' shadowy fingerprints.

He lifts his head, his half-lidded eyes, feeling boneless and vulnerable as a new kitten in Fuches' arms. A tug in his hair makes his body even limper, just like a cat, and he struggles to stay upright until he sees Fuches incline his head, just a little. His knees buckle, hitting the ground hard as his face comes to rest on the tent in the front of Fuches' pants. "Hey, man," Fuches chokes out, and Barry sits up straighter, swaying on his heels as he tries to read Fuches' face from below. He looks - no, not just the regular pleased - he looks _proud_ , eyes soft and mouth curving even as his cock strains against the fabric imprisoning it.

Barry's moved, trying to keep his mouth shut as the feeling of doing something right, of belonging wells up inside him. He knows from bitter experience that if he doesn't keep these things to himself, Fuches is likely to get mad or worse, leave. But it turns out he doesn't need to say a thing. Fuches puts a warm hand in his hair, and somehow Barry just knows that Fuches understands how he feels. He thinks maybe the reason he's really so stuck on Fuches is the moments like this: feeling so known and understood, but accepted and even loved for all that dirt and shame. Being able to be so vulnerable and still feel safe. Still feel held. Barry realises with horror that his eyes are welling up, and presses his face to Fuches' thigh, breathing hard and fast.

"Hey, man," Fuches says again, but softly, even tenderly, stroking his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. Barry swallows a sob. Fuches gently peels him off his leg, looking down into his brimming eyes. He pets his temple, his eyebrow as he speaks softly into the night. "You know, you don't have to do anything. We can go home, Barry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean. squeakquel incoming obv but im a fuckong lesbian. how the fuck am i gonna write a blowjob scene. pray 4 me.. also this is my first fic so unstructive crit encouraged!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lesbian whos only banged cis girls before trying to write Dicc just took a big dump out there, that guy sucks
> 
> ps - this is p nasty, i mean we all kno what fuches is like.. i was debating putting up dubcon but like. just know. theres some rough kinda undiscussed oral at the start

Barry straightens up, tightness in his chest gone. "Let me, let me make you feel good," Barry croaks, undoing Fuches' pants with steady hands. Fuches can't do much more than nod, his own desire obvious and pressing. Barry's mouth waters as he unzips Fuches' fly, the sound Pavlovian in its effect. He knows this is going to hurt, but he wants it to, wants to cram Fuches in so deep he can feel him in his guts. Barry pulls down Fuches' underwear and his cock springs out, firm and hot in his hand.

Barry starts slow, licking the darkened tip, flicking his tongue into the slit a little as he looks up at Fuches through the droplets on his eyelashes. Fuches is struggling to keep his cool, the hand he hasn't got fisted in Barry's hair clenching and unclenching at his side, wheezing shallowly through his parted lips. Barry, enchanted, takes his mouth off of him to get a better look - and there's Fuches' hand yanking him close, pressing him down around him til his lips almost meet the base of his dick.

_"Mmph!"_

All thoughts of taking his time and putting on a show vanish as Fuches' dick strains his already sore throat, hurting even more as Fuches begins to move, barely giving him a moment to adjust. Fuches' soft side is gone now, alright, his dick filling out in the tight channel of Barry's mouth. The pain in Barry's throat, somewhere between a sting and an ache, fades as arousal and exhaustion build. He lets his eyes slip closed as Fuches pulls at a handful of his hair, tugging him in hard and fucking his mouth. Barry doesn't mind being used, doesnt mind it at all as his cock stirs again, Fuches' breath audible as he thrusts in deep, over and over, taking what's his.

Barry moans, long and low, the sound fucked out halfway through as Fuches buries himself to the hilt. He smiles even as it hurts like hell when he hears Fuches gasp at the vibration. Barry's in no shape to try anything fancy, but he knows just how Fuches likes it, sloppy and rough, and can't resist taking advantage. He tries a little graze of his bottom teeth to the underside of Fuches' dick on the slide out, and is rewarded with a shaky " _Christ!"_ and a fist twisting in his hair, actually tearing some out as Fuches groans above him. Barry moans again, louder, and latches on earnestly as Fuches thrusts unevenly into him, not bothering to avoid hitting the back of his throat. One particularly deep push and Barry's fucking choking on his dick, tears springing to his eyes as he tries to maintain suction, knowing Fuches is probably getting off on it. But suddenly Fuches moves back and Barry's lips _pop_ off of him. He looks up, surprised.

"Fuches - "  
"Hey - kid - "  
"I jus' wanna - "  
" _Hey._ "

Fuches leans down a little to stroke his face, wipe his slick chin.

"Don't fuckin' kill yourself down there. It's real good, you're doin' great, but take a breather, huh?"

Barry can't hide his astonishment, legs folding as he sits back, his mind racing. He thought for sure Fuches was done being gentle for the night, giving into the cheapness of the situation and acting on impulse. But here was that kind hand playing with his hair again, smoothing the mess and tucking a loose strand behind his ear. He gazes up at Fuches, eyes searching.

"What, you really think I wanna kill you with death by dick? C'mon, man. You at least deserve a sexy choke out - by _hand_ , Barry, get your mouth away from there."

Barry's laughter bubbles up til it can't be contained, breaking out of him painfully as his whole body relaxes and he leans forward into Fuches' thigh. He can feel Fuches shaking with mirth too, and his eyes are shining again. The whole situation is so surreal - the weird little date, the choking, the concept of Barry literally dying for Fuches' cock. The fucking alley - he giggles again, grins up at Fuches smiling face.

"At _least._ "

The heel of Fuches' palm, pleasantly rough, moves over his face and into his hair, calming their laughing fit. He loves that they can joke while they do this, loves how much less - _mean_ Fuches is after a couple of drinks. Quicker to laugh, quicker to kiss.

Barry reaches for him again, still hard even after their drunken goofiness. He holds Fuches' cock steady at the base as he licks a long, wet stripe up the underside, then traces his tongue over the ridge of the head. He pulls in the tip as he checks Fuches' face, wishing he was as vocal as himself - yeah, he's nice and red, with a sheen glistening on his forehead.

Barry smiles, toying with the hot bulb in his mouth, applying a little pressure with his teeth then soothing it with his tongue. Fuches is coming apart above him, face flushed and mouth open.

"God, you're so good."

Barry moans, lets his head fall down the shaft a little. "Easy, now." He sucks him down a couple inches then comes back, and repeats the move, going just a little further each time. By the time Barry has all of him down his throat, Fuches' breath is ragged, hand shaking in his hair as he resists the urge to fuck him stupid. Barry, sensing his desperation, allows himself a dirty growl around the entire length of Fuches swollen cock before sliding off him completely.

"You can, you know," he says, sweet as anything, voice quiet so as not to crack his throat open. "Use me how you want, I mean. I can take it."

"Barry..."

"I mean it."

They lock eyes, both their gazes loaded. Slowly, carefully, Fuches brings Barry forward by the hair til his lips are just short of the head of his dick. Barry gives it a little kiss, a swipe of tongue. He can hear both strain and a smile in Fuches' voice as he asks if he's ready. Barry simply nods, nose purposely grazing the very tip of Fuches' cock as he does so. Fuches wastes no time shoving himself in his waiting mouth and thrusting rapidly. Barry slackens his jaw as his head is tugged here and there just as Fuches pleases, hearing Fuches grunt and feeling him harden with every deep, deep push.

Barry's drunk in more ways than one, drooling around the thick cock in his mouth as he presses his own bulge between his thighs. He's too far gone to do much more than let Fuches fuck his aching throat and stay upright. He feels the urgency of Fuches' dick in his mouth, the dampness of the concrete through the knees of his jeans, the heat of Fuches' hand in his hair - every one of his nerves feels like a plinked guitar string as his lips stretch around Fuches' thick, twitching cock.

Fuches stills, wheezes once, twice, three times - " _Fuck_ _!" -_ suddenly he's pumping cum down Barry's throat, his hand fast in his hair. Barry's eyes stream as he swallows again and again, drinking him down like bitter medicine. He's still sucking when Fuches pulls out, overstimulated and panting above him.

He just rests his hand on Barry's head a moment, catching his breath. Barry's exhausted, about ready to fall asleep, but then Fuches spreads out his fingers and tousles his hair roughly.

"Good boy. My boy."

Barry sighs, rubs his face into Fuches' leg. He fucking loves it when Fuches calls him that. He moves back and opens his mouth to tell him, but right away Fuches' finger is sweeping cum off his swollen lower lip and into his mouth. Barry suckles it clean as he locks eyes with Fuches.

"Oh, yeah. You're my boy alright."

Barry's eyelids flutter, blissed out and so used up he's barely conscious.

"C'mon." Fuches hand cuts to his across the darkness, pulling him up slowly. "Let's get you home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, big thanks to all the great writers for these two, i totally ripped yall off. e.g. i didnt know how to end this (its kinda abrupt??) so i p much lifted the ending from the deeply erotick bad prisoner by idioteques (cant figure out linking on mobile rip) plus the keepin quiet/finger sucking Concept.. all theirs. ok beace out ✌


End file.
